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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938842">All In</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoestiel/pseuds/phoestiel'>phoestiel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Like a prayer for which no words exist [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>White Collar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoestiel/pseuds/phoestiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal has to go back to New York. Matt can't let him go</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neal Caffrey/Matthew Keller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Like a prayer for which no words exist [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/508647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A couple more weeks. A couple more jobs. It’s a dangerous flirtation, the way he teases Neal. The way Neal teases him. It’s a kind of anger, the way heat settles in the pit of his stomach when Neal is especially clever. Which is always: his boy is so smart, so quick, the challenge to his own pride burns through him. It’s a drug, this anger. It’s a high he can’t stop chasing, pushing Neal to be better than he already is. The way Neal grins at him, the way those blue eyes are lit from inside. It’s a kind of ache that Matt never wants to stop feeling.</p><p>And it’s bullshit. It’s not an ache or an anger or a high. It’s passion. It burns Matt’s skin, makes him lick his lip in anticipation or desperation. The only consolation is that Neal is burning, too. He leans into it, daring Matt to set him aflame.</p><p>They touch, and kiss, and explore. One night Neal leaves a hickey on his shoulder, a dark red mark that Matt can’t stop touching. Neal sees him and smiles: <em> I’m winning </em>. For once, Matt wants to lose, doesn’t mind giving in. Losing to Neal is still a victory. Let the best man win, and he did. Oh, he did.</p><p>And then one night, it falls apart. Matt always knew it was an idyll, not meant to last. But he wasn’t prepared for it. They’re in their hotel room- having given up the pretense of separate rooms the night Neal said he loved Matt- and Neal is sprawled on the bed. Looking like Adonis, in the flesh. No mere mortal was ever that beautiful. Matt was pretending to read, but was really just looking at Neal, considering joining him on the bed. Neal felt his gaze and gave him a slow smile.</p><p>“I need to tell you something,” he said. Matt missed the darkened, sober eyes; Neal was dazzling when he wanted to be.</p><p>“Tell me,” Matt said. “You got sins need absolving?” Neal held his smile but wouldn’t look at him. His boy sat up, running a hand through his hair, shrugging. Looking abashed, and sheepish, and generally adorably forgivable. His heart dropped to the floor, and his voice was rough when he spoke. “Neal.”</p><p>“I have to go back to New York.” It sounded like a confession, and Matt could almost smell the church incense. He shook his head, dropping his book.</p><p>“No,” Matt said. No. Neal couldn’t leave. Not after these weeks, months, of passion.</p><p>“I have to.” still that confessing tone, that need for absolution. Matt moved to the bed, fists clenched.</p><p>“You can’t,” he insisted. “I got us a job in-”</p><p>“Matty,” Neal pleaded. And oh. <em> Oh </em>. The sound of his name in Neal’s mouth, that nickname he’d always hated. Somehow whenever Neal said it, it sounded endearing. He sat on the bed, reached for Neal’s wrist. “I should have left right after Monaco, but I- I couldn’t. But I have to now.”</p><p>“I can get us more money, more jobs. Y’can’t-” begging. What’s this kid done to him? Matthew Keller, begging this beautiful boy to stay with him. But he can’t help himself. He has no shame when it comes to Neal.</p><p>“I have to.” Stubborn. But he puts his hand over Matt’s, pulls him closer. Matt’s hands are trembling; a pit opens his stomach, threatening to consume him. But no, it’s not a pit. It’s an ache, the absence of Neal even though he’s still right here. Close enough to kiss.</p><p>“Y’said you’d stay.” Neal lets out a breath, but pulls him closer. Kisses him, light, but not easy. Not gentle.</p><p>“Don’t remind me,” Neal says against his mouth. “If you do-” Matt’s hands move over Neal’s chest, pushing the shirt from his shoulders.</p><p>“What? If I do, what?” and he means to be teasing, to be joking, but he’s not. He looks into Neal’s eyes, that deep blue that is unmatched by anything he’s ever seen. They’re a shade darker than usual; it happens when Neal is emotional.</p><p>“I’ll stay.” His voice shakes on the words, and Matt leans in. Neal puts a hand on his chest. “But, I- I have to go back to New York.” The look in Neal’s eyes is too much; Matt has to kiss him just so he doesn’t have to see it. He can’t ask his boy to stay.and he knew, he fucking <em> knew </em>, this was going to happen. It had been too good to be true.</p><p>“What’s in New York?” he asked instead. Neal kissed him now, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. Distracting him. “You don’t have to tell me.”</p><p>“I’m not going to,” Neal said. That same pained look in his eyes. Restless hands on Matt, trying to soften the blow.</p><p>“Then shut up,” he says, kissing him. This time, their love making is desperate and stark, not at all the teasing game it’s been from the beginning. For Neal, it’s confession: kisses asking for absolution, hands on bare skin seeking forgiveness. Matt will not absolve him of the crime of leaving, though, and kisses without mercy. For once he isn’t worshipping the other; his hands are brutal because his young god has turned out to have feet of clay.</p><p>But Neal isn’t minding the brutality of Matt’s love. He isn’t resisting. Instead, the sounds that fall from his mouth are beautiful, needing. Begging for him. Begging for everything Matt has.</p><p>“Matty, please, I need, I need you, please…” Neal whines. And Matt needs to soothe that need, He kisses Neal, finally gentle, as their bodies press together. He doesn’t know how their clothes came off, but they are skin to skin, needing.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” he breathes against Neal’s mouth, and it’s all he can manage. <em> I love you </em>  and <em> I need you </em>  and <em> don’t leave me </em> catch in his throat, and <em> sweetheart </em> is all he can manage. But Neal understands, hands ghosting down Matt’s back as he arches against him.</p><p>“Say it again, sweetheart,” Matt begs, and what the fuck? He’s not supposed to be the one begging. Neal’s big blue eyes look at him, needing and loving. Matt clears his throat.</p><p>“What do you want me to say?” Neal asks.He kisses Matt’s shoulder, teeth grazing the skin, and Matt closes his eyes as he groans.</p><p>“Tell me you love me,” he says, and he cannot believe. This is not Matthew Keller. He hasn’t asked for love since he was 14 years old and fought his old man after church. Matt doesn’t need to be loved.</p><p>But Matty? Neal’s Matty? Yes. Yes, he needs Neal to say. Yes, he needs this godlike beautiful little con to love him. And damn his soul, he needs to hear it. Neals sighs, a soft breath against Matt’s shoulder.</p><p>“I love you, Matthew Keller.” He says. “I love you.” and now Matt is shaking, needing Neal to stay with him. But knowing he has to let his boy go. He shudders. “I love you, but I have to go. Forgive me?” And then Neal is kissing him, devouring, and how the hell did he become the needing one here? How the hell do those words take him apart and put him together again? He clutches Neal to him, starkly needing, and Neal clings to him.</p><p>“If y’go to New York, it won’t be forever?” He asks. Begs. Neal kisses his throat, his shoulder, his collarbone.</p><p>“No, sweetheart. Not forever.” Neal says. But Matt doesn’t know if that’s true, or only Neal telling him what he needs to hear. And doesn’t care.</p><p>“I’ll come,” he says. “After this next job. A few weeks. A month. Then I’ll be there.”</p><p>“Okay, sweetheart,” Neal breathes. “Okay.”</p><p>And he makes desperate love to Neal, marking him as much as h e can. Neal will bear bruises on his thighs, on his shoulders. Hickies on his chest and abdomen. He belongs to Keller.</p><p>Afterward, as they lie in the bed not sleeping, Neal’s arm across Matt’s chest, curled against each other Matt fights tears. It’s been years since someone hurt him  this way. Sice he allowed himself to be hurt this way. He clutches Neal’s shoulder, kisses him. Neral smiles.</p><p>“If y’need money for the flight,” he says, forcing himself to keep his voice calm, “y’know where that is?”</p><p>“I do.” Neal replies. Matt closes his eyes, drawing Neal closer.</p><p>“When are you leaving?” He forces himself to ask. Neal hesitates.</p><p>“In the morning.” Neal finally answers. Matt sighs.</p><p>“I’ll see you in a couple weeks, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>When he wakes up, Neal is gone. Back to New York. He’s devastated.</p>
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